Love Me Forever

by Lisa Renee Jones

  Adrian exits the car first and Grayson and I follow with Blake on our heels. We’re now in a hallway that is a short walk to the main elevator banks. Grayson slides his arm over my shoulders. “You nervous?” he murmurs near my ear.

  “I’m good,” I promise, but the truth is I’m not sure he is and that has me determined to be his lighthouse in stormy waters, or at least a boat, that won’t sink and keeps him from drowning.

  I halt and give Grayson a look. He eyes Blake over my head. “We need a minute.”

  Blake and Adrian move ahead of us, which means that obviously, they feel we’re now secure. I want to believe that’s true, but Ri has involved other people in his hate for Grayson, bad people, that it’s hard to know if we can let our guards down and when. “We’re good, Grayson. You don’t have to worry about me, or gossip, or Ri’s attacks through other people. Go to work and do what you do, focus on the challenge which is not us.”

  He catches my hip and walks me to him. “Where is this coming from, Mia?”

  “I know you, Grayson. I can almost feel the weight on your shoulders pressing on my own. Ri isn’t done attacking you and there are people out there who would hurt you just to hurt you. Because you’re rich and good-looking. I want to make you stronger—”

  “You do, baby. You abso-fucking-lutely do.”

  He says that but it’s not completely true, not right this moment, but I’m going to fix that. I have to fix that. I flatten my hand on his chest, the silk of his tie, and the thunder of his heart under my palm. “I screwed up, Grayson. You’re the love of my life. I know you’re mine. I know I’m yours. You need to know, too, and know nothing touches us ever again. Set us aside, walk in there, and work that Bennett magic and get this over with. Find the bad eggs, get them out, and let’s move on.”

  He studies me for several long beats, and then kisses me hard on the lips, ending that kiss with my lipstick on his mouth. I laugh and wipe his mouth. “It’s not your shade.”

  He winks and links my arm with his arm and as we start walking, the bond we share, present and strong, and I can almost feel the weight on his shoulder ease just a little bit. He’s lighter now, and yet there’s a razor-sharp edge to him as well. He’s ready to play ball and win. And any nerves I’d had about my return here fade. Being here means being with him, passionately engaged in his life, his company, and, no—our life. This is where I belong.

  We round the corner to the elevators and Grayson motions Blake forward. Adrian stays behind by the elevators. Not long afterward, I’m swarmed with warm welcomes, hugs, and lots of familiar faces. I’m instantly back home. Oh yes, indeed, I belong here. I should never have left, but I will not let regret dictate the future. I’m here to stay.

  We eventually make it into the executive offices that house only a dozen people out of the thousand-plus of Bennett employees in the building, and we head to Grayson’s office. It’s there that I’m greeted by his secretary Nancy, who’s fortyish, with black-rimmed glasses, and quite lovely in all ways.

  “Mia!” She shoots up from her seat and rushes around her desk.

  I’m pulled into a hug, and she whispers in my ear. “Screw TMZ.”

  I laugh and ease back to smile at her. “I’m not upset by that. We both know it’s not true and—” I show her my ring.

  She squeals and eyes Grayson. “When?”

  “We’re working on the details, but I’d do it today if we could,” he assures her.

  “No eloping,” Nancy scolds. “You two have waited too long for this and I want to plan the wedding of the century.” She eyes Grayson. “Don’t let this mess dictate how you get married. Of course, TMZ is calling you a manwhore now, and they’ll be trying to chopper over your wedding later. They are such whores themselves.”

  Grayson’s displeasure with the topic washes over his features and his jaw sets hard. I can almost feel him bristling with the control he doesn’t own right now but wants back. His eyes glint hard and I watch determination fill his stare. He doesn’t just want it back. He’s about to take it back.

  Blake rejoins us at that moment—we’d lost him back in the lobby, and he’s not alone. The good-looking man with him, who has tattoos peeking from under his suit jacket, and intense blue eyes, is Eric, his best friend. My friend, too.

  “Welcome back, Mia,” he greets, and to my surprise, he pulls me into a hug—Eric is not a hugger—and whispers in my ear. “He wasn’t whole without you.”

  “Nor was I,” I say, feeling a bit choked up, because Eric doesn’t just say things to say things. Eric isn’t a fluffer or a “feel-good” kind of guy, but he’s just managed to make me feel quite good. That is until he releases me and Blake motions to Grayson’s door.

  “We need to talk,” Blake says, and now he’s the intense one, and that doesn’t read like good news.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Grayson

  Control.

  There are very few people in this world that really know how much I value and need control. Mia knows. Eric knows. Right now, I do not feel in control. At all. It’s driving me mad. I catch Mia’s hand and pull her ahead of me into my office, a possessive, protective action, I know, but I can’t help it. I just endured my enemy holding a gun on her head, and he’s not done coming at me, and us, yet.

  Blake shuts the door, and we converge around my conference table. Eric tosses a file down in the center. “Statistically,” he says, savant that he is, “those are the ten employees hired in the past year, most likely to be dirty. However,” he adds, “statistically, the odds of you being burned by one of those people is eighty percent less likely than you being burned by someone you know and trust, someone close to you.”

  “Me?” Mia bristles, when Mia doesn’t bristle easily. “Are you talking about me?”

  “Easy, baby,” I murmur. “He’s not talking about you.”

  “Are you?” she asks, focused on Eric.

  “The odds of it being you are about even with it being me, Mia,” he states, “which is ten percent, statistically speaking only. Neither of us is going to burn Grayson. And you know I have an intimate understanding of being burned by those close to me.”

  He means his family, who own an empire of their own and treat him like a bastard—which technically he is, as his mother wasn’t married to his father, but that’s beside the point. They treat him horribly. “If I thought you were the bad guy here,” he adds, “I’d be handing Grayson a drink and talking to him one on one.”

  “We’d all need a drink to tell Grayson that shit,” Blake adds. “The bottom line here is that we all know Grayson is still under attack. The FBI now knows that Grayson is under attack.”

  “How do we know the FBI isn’t a part of that?” I ask. “We know the DA’s office has dirty players. If the DA’s office can do it, why not the FBI?”

  “We have enough documentation to cover his ass,” he says, “but when you talk about someone near and dear to Grayson, you’re talking a bigger exposure.”

  There’s a knock on the door, and Davis, my second confidant to Eric, and my personal attorney walks in. “You rang?”

  Blake motions him forward and Davis, a tall, regal, looking man, in his thirties, with dark hair and a short, neatly trimmed beard, joins us at the table. Once he’s up to speed, the debate begins. “What about Nancy?” Davis asks. “She knows everything you do.”

  “No,” I say. “It’s not Nancy. She’s loyal, and she makes as much as a seasoned attorney.”

  “Honestly, Grayson is so good to everyone. Why would anyone who knows him burn him?”

  “You’d be surprised what people will do for a big payday,” Eric says, tapping the folder on the desk. “I put together the top twenty people closest to Grayson for Blake.”

  “We’re going to start digging,” Blake confirms.

  “I included my banking information and welcomed him to dig into my life,” Eric adds.

  “I don’t have much to offer, but what’s mine is Grayson’s,” Mia says. �
�And we’re signing a prenup anyway.”

  I catch her hand, lacing her fingers under the table, at the mention of a topic that we’ve fought about since long before my father passed. I’d been against it and Mia for it, but my opinion had changed when my father told me that he had one with my mother, who was the love of his life. Of course, I know Mia loves me. I know she isn’t after my money, but my father reminded me that life is long and hard, and I want to know she stays because she keeps loving me. So rather than cheat her in a prenup, he instructed me to be generous—to make sure that if she falls out of love, she leaves. I’m damn sure not going to let her fall out of love with me.

  “I’ll offer up full access to my everything,” Davis interjects. “I don’t work here, but I’m close to Grayson, really fucking close and a data source to all his private affairs.” He eyes Blake. “I’d welcome some help ensuring I’ve secured his documents.” He grimaces. “Though from what I understand about this group involved, it’s probably too late.”

  “We’ll take a look at your data for breaches this afternoon,” Blake offers before eyeing the table. “To be clear,” he adds, “this threat has a three-month expiration. After which, no one with any skin in the game remains engaged. That’s when the payout expires.” He motions to Davis. “I brought him up to speed. Everyone here knows that Ri hired the Dungeon.” He doesn’t give anyone time to reply. “I know,” he adds, “that three months feels like forever, but it’s not forever. That said, Eric has one additional statistic that brain bomb of his conjured up that we need to discuss. It’s a conclusion I came to without his complicated brain, which means we landed at the same place in different ways and need to take notice.”

  My gaze sharpens on Eric. “Why do I know I’m not going to like this bomb?”

  He doesn’t hold back. “I believe Mia will be a target,” he says.

  Mia hugs herself. “Because I’m seen as the traitor.”

  “No,” I say. “No one sees you as a traitor, Mia.”

  “You just had a gun held to your head,” Blake corrects. “That affected you, whether you’ve admitted that yet or not.”

  “And you’re newly back in Grayson’s life,” Eric adds. “New can mean vulnerable, but the good news in this, Mia, is that we can use that to our advantage.”

  “Exactly,” Blake agrees. “Because we’ll be watching and ready and so will you.”

  “She’s not bait,” I say, no give to my voice.

  “No,” Blake confirms. “But she is a target. Ri saw her as that and I guarantee you he made sure the Dungeon knew her as that as well.”

  “Target,” I repeat. “Are you telling us she’s in danger?” Blake hesitates and that control I don’t have spirals furthers out of reach.

  His lips press into a hard line, and he says, “We can’t rule that out as a possibility.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Mia

  I’m a target.

  Again.

  I wait for the panic to rush over me, but it doesn’t. There’s something powerful about knowledge and being prepared, I decide, which is why I say, “At least we know this time.”

  “I’m taking Mia out of the country for three months,” Grayson announces.

  “No,” I insist, turning to Grayson. “No. I’m not willing to run from this. I know this is unsettling, Grayson, but I also know you want to control this situation as much as I do.”

  “Which is why we’re leaving the city.”

  “I’m exactly who we want them to target. Let’s catch these assholes and get back to our life.”

  “This feels too obvious anyway,” Davis says. “She was already a target. Any logical asshole will know we’ll be watching her.”

  “Too obvious are words that too often get people in trouble,” Blake snaps. “The enemy believes you think that and makes it work for them. Look,” he leans on the table, “let’s just play this cautious but not extreme, Grayson. You both can go about your normal days, as soon as the fucking press allows it, and we’ll keep you and Mia safe.”

  “Hurting Mia is the way to hurt me,” he says. “The rest, I don’t give a shit about.”

  “Of course, you do,” I say. “This is your father’s brainchild that you and Eric have turned into something he’d be proud of. We’re staying here and fighting for it. And I have a client who needs me right now, not to mention my excitement to define my role with the company, and just go home. I want to go home.”

  There’s a knock on the door, and Nancy walks in, shuts the door, and leans on it. “My God. A temp came in for one of the attorneys. He was digging through the desks. He was a reporter. He’s locked in the conference room. Security called the police.”

  Grayson stares at her for several long beats, which might seem like a non-reaction, but those of us who know him know otherwise. He’s simmering hot inside, irritated by the lack of control he’s experiencing and I truly believe the only reason he hasn’t taken that control back is that his every move is dictated by fear for me. I don’t know how to fix that, but I know I have to, we have to because shackling his instincts isn’t good for him, us, or the company and its employees.

  “Give every employee on staff here in the corporate offices a bonus equal to their Christmas bonus,” he responds, “including yourself, Nancy. It’s the least I can do for the hell you’re all enduring.”

  She blinks and instead of greedily just accepting, she says, “That’s a lot of money, Grayson.”

  “And this is a bloody mess. Do it. Make it happen today.”

  “Okay. Yes. I’ll get with accounting now. Do you want to press charges?”

  “I’ll handle the reporter,” Davis offers. “I’ll be right there, Nancy.”

  “Thanks, Davis.” She turns a questioning look on Grayson.

  “Go make that payday happen,” he says.

  She nods and exits the office. Then, as if he’s read my mind, as often it seems he does, his gaze shifts and lands on me. “You’re right. We need to take our life back.” His attention shifts to Blake. “This is why I just want to do an actual sit-down in-depth interview, not a quick press conference, and get this over with. We need the fascination with all things us to end.”

  “I don’t disagree with that strategy,” Blake replies, “but you need to talk to Reese Summer first.”

  “I don’t like this idea that Grayson needs an attorney,” I state. “Why does he have to defend himself from the FBI, who should be protecting him right now?”

  “You’re an attorney,” Davis replies. “You know how well we insulate our clients.”

  “I get that,” I say, “but it angers me that Grayson is getting hit on all sides.”

  “We don’t have to defend if we attack first,” Eric says, eyeing Blake. “You and I need to find a way to smoke out the problem. I’m up for an all-day, all-nighter if you are.”

  “I’m all fucking in,” Blake says. “And so is my team. I suggest you bring your savant brain to our offices where we can hook it up to our resources.”

  Eric agrees. “Done.”

  “I for one, nix the interview idea,” Davis interjects, swinging back to the prior topic. “Reporters are vampires. They’ll take this FBI mess and twist it.”

  Eric scoffs. “Are you fucking serious, Davis? They’re already doing that. We need to do reputation damage control, and Grayson and Mia together do that better than anyone else possibly could.” He eyes Grayson. “Grayson?”

  A thought hits me and I push into the conversation. “I know some people hate Grayson for being Grayson—rich and powerful and good-looking—but he’s a good man. The people who work here know he’s a good man. I have a hard time believing that won’t come across in an interview. And I have to believe that some of those people who came here to hurt Grayson will change their minds.”

  “But some won’t,” Blake states. “We just need to make sure anything that comes at us is a sideswipe, not a permanent dent.”

  Meaning they need to make sure I don’t end
up dead. Or that’s my assumption, though it seems a fairly good one right after having a gun held to my head. It’s in the air, hanging there, a heavy rock that wants to smash me right in the head.

  “One more thing,” Blake adds. “Don’t assume the attack will come from here at the offices. It could come from an unknown, outside source. Or even someone close to you in your personal life. I’ll be in touch on the Summer meeting.”

  And with that rock thrown, the room scatters and empties, the door shutting to leave me and Grayson alone in his office.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Mia

  Control.

  We’re back to Grayson needing control.

  I can feel it in the crackle of the air, even before he catches my hand and walks me to him. “I want right now,” he murmurs, his head tilted low to mine. “Many things. You know that, right?”

  When this man says he wants, I want, and my nipples immediately pucker while my sex clenches. “I do know,” I say, my voice low, a rasp that tells a story: I’m right here with him, affected in every way.

  His hands come down on my arms. “I want to pull your skirt up and fuck you right here on the table. I want to spank you. I want to take you to some exotic place and keep you naked in bed for three fucking months.” His voice is low, guttural. His hands come down on my arms and he pulls back to look at me. “But more than anything, I want to go home with you. And we are. Tonight.”

  “Tonight?” I ask hopefully. “Are you sure?”

  “One hundred percent, baby. You’re right. We need our life back and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let Ri continue to take that from us, but I need you to make a deal with me.”